Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 57043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
“No.” Griffin shakes his head, a smile coming to his face and dropping away. “I don't regret touching you or kissing you or fucking you. Or being with you. I don't even regret that it was at work while the bar was open.”
I’m silent. Swallowing down every thought.
“Renee, you know I wouldn't regret anything we did together, don't you?”
“I know a person can come to regret almost anything.” I think of my mom and how she always says I did it for you, Renee. It's supposed to be a comforting thing, but it's only comforting to her. It's the reason she gives herself to justify going back to a man who destroyed her life. She said she’s sorry and I’ve said I’m sorry but sorry never fixed anything. “I know you can get caught up with someone who only ever hurts you, and that lasts forever.” I say without thinking and then I want to take it back.
Griffin looks confused. “You've never hurt me. And if I did anything to hurt you, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. But I deserve to know if I did something that hurt you.”
I curl my hands up in the blanket, then let it fall back to my lap. “You didn't do anything to hurt me.”
“I fucked up though,” he says, and I swear I can’t breathe. I know I just need to take this and then it’ll all be over. I just need to hold on so I grip the blanket tighter.
He takes a deep breath and runs his fingers through his hair. Griffin's obviously thinking about what to say. He's always been choosing his words, I think.
Griffin looks me in the eye. His dark gaze soft and caring.
“I should have told you the truth about how I felt,” he says.
“It's fine if you regret—” I say just wanting this part to be over.
“No, Renee. It's not about regret. I don't regret anything.”
“It was just pretend,” I lie to myself to make it hurt less. “It didn’t mean anything.”
“It did mean something. It meant something to me.” I stare up at him, wishing he would just end it faster.
“Okay, but...it can't have meant that much to you.”
“That much?” he questions, his voice tight with disbelief in his expression.
I want to say there's too much you don't know about me. But that would be giving myself away. That would open the door to so many more questions that I can't answer.
“There's too much we don't know about each other for it to have been—”
“I think we know a lot about each other. And whatever I don't know, I can learn. Because this isn't a game to me, Renee. It's not pretend.”
And then there's a loud, heavy knock at the door. Keeping me from telling the next lie just to save him from what happens next.
Knock knock knock.
Knock knock KNOCK.
The blood drains from my face. I know exactly who's at the door. Because it’s not the first time. This is what happens. I knew there was no hope.
Griffin
Renee turns white as a sheet. The angry impatient knocks keep coming. And she does nothing. They knock a third time as Renee stares at me.
Something in my blood turns cold. I almost say something to the door, but she stops me. The fear in her eyes stops me.
“Renee?” I say softly.
She throws the blanket off and jumps off the couch. Renee sprints through the living room, keeping her footsteps silent, and I bolt after her.
Renee gets to the door a couple steps ahead of me and slams a deadbolt into place.
“Renee,” a man on the other side shouts. “Renee, I know that was you. Open the damn door.”
“I'm not opening the door and you need to leave,” she says, her voice shaking.
“Open the goddamn door.” The man outside in the hall pounds on the door again. It shakes in the frame, but the deadbolt holds.
It’s nearly four in the morning. What the fuck is going on?
I watch her stand on the other side of the door, watching it like she’s hoping it’ll stay there. Stay shut and keep whoever it is on the other side.
“Come back here,” I tell her in a voice just above a whisper. “Renee. Get behind me.”
She doesn’t move. Fear keeps her in place. It dawns on me that she knows who it is.
“Who is that?” I ask her but she doesn’t answer.
“Go away,” she calls. Her purse is on the floor near the door, and Renee bends down, snatches it and takes out her phone. She doesn't call anyone with it, though. She just holds it tightly in her hand. “I'm not opening the door so go away.”
“Who the fuck is out there?” I repeat but I’m not heard over the fucker who’s scaring the shit out of her.
“You owe me a fucking conversation,” the man shouts. “You're the one who started all this. You're the one who did this to me. Getting between me and my wife!”